Mud Pies
by Eve215
Summary: A series of one-shots with various prompts. Chapter 7: The Restaurant. A short little Jane and Lisbon number.
1. Mud Pies

_A/N: I have found a new love... that of the one-shot. I've decided to just make a story 'tab' of one-shots. My dear buddy demonbunny7 has been happy enough to give me 'prompts' and try to stump me. To save room, I'm just going to post them here in this little 'story'. If anyone else would like to give some prompts, that would be ok too. I get bored at night and these keep me busy.. i could be cleaning, but who wants that? I hope this isn't booed or jeered. I hope people like these. Some will be one word prompts. Some will be situational prompts... and some (like today's) will be 3 random words thrown together to try to stump me. Some will be funny, and some will be dramatic.... and some will probably just be stupid. All mistakes are mine... I own them *semi* proudly._

_Disclaimer: If I owned these characters, I'd be making money. Since I don't, I'm not. Nor do I own the Disney Princesses._

_xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

Chapter Prompts: Mud pies, astronaut, and unicorns

_**Mud Pies**_

"Daddy, when you were my age, what did you want to be when you grew up?"

He laughed, amused by his little girl. She was seven, the big number seven, and she was intrigued by everything. She asked thousands of questions and knew straight away if the answer wasn't entirely the truth. He hoped she'd been blessed with his gift of observation. Her looks she'd gotten from her mother. Long brown hair. Sun kissed cheeks. Light green eyes. It was like she was her mother's clone. Nothing of him at all... except for her 'psychic ablilities'. That he was proud of.

He settled down on her bed and gently rubbed a stray hair away from her forehead. He pulled her Disney Princess comforter higher on her chest and made sure the edges were flat. With his work, he didn't get to tuck her in most nights. He was usually off scamming-- helping some rich person or a performing a show for couple hundred. In a week would be his first television appearance. He'd been understandably excited and as effect was working long hours to prepare. It wasn't until his wife had stopped and reminded him that he hadn't seen his daughter in foru days that he decided to cut the night short and spend time with her. Afterwards, he had plans on spending time with the misses.

"What did I want to be when I grew up?" he repeated her question contemplatively. "Well, there was a time when I wanted to be an astronaut."

"An astronaut? You?" she answered amused as she hugged her old stuffed purple unicorn tightly and twirling her fingers around its long pink tail.

"Yes, _me."_ he laughed. "Why? You don't see me as a spaceman?"

She wrinkled her nose and shook her head.

"Oh really? Then what do you think I should have been?"

She studied him closely, finally saying, "An actor. You would have made a good actor."

That was his girl. As far as he knew, she knew nothing about his 'psychic abilities' or performances. If anyone had said anything to her about them at school, she hadn't let on. He _was _an actor of sorts. She was right about that. Only he was the best kind of actor.... the kind that no one knew was acting. "An actor? Hmm... interesting." he paused, thinking, then asked. "Ok missy, what do you want to be when you grow up?"

She thought a minute, clearly weighing her options as any seven year old would do and finally said, "I want to be a chef."

He answer surprised him. "A chef? Can you cook?"

She faked being taken aback. "Daddy?!? Of course I can cook. Have you never tasted my mud pies?"

"Sorry, I haven't." he chuckled. "You'll have to make them for me sometime."

She beamed brightly. She never got to spend much time with her father and any time he promised to was a big deal for her. "Ok, when?"

"Ummm.." he hated making a promise he couldn't keep. He racked his brain trying to remember when he was free next. The tv show taping was a week away. The days leading to it was prep and morning show interviews. The next day he had free was.....

"Jane. Jane." Teresa Lisbon shook the consultant on the arm, trying to wake him from his daydream like trance. "You ok?" she asked when he finally roused up.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Just thinking." he sat up from his brown leather couch, five years past his conversation with his daughter.

She started to say _"Hey be careful with that thinking thing. You might hurt yourself."_ but seeing the distant and distraught look in his eyes she asked, "Is something wrong?" instead.

He wanted to laugh. Yes there was something wrong. Something very wrong. He wanted to confide in Lisbon. He wanted to tell her that he'd promised his daughter that he'd be home to play with her two days after his big, huge, important TV show. He wanted to tell her that he was home that night as promised, but his daughter wasn't. He wanted to scream and yell and beat the ground telling her that he'd spent that night outside of his house with her stuffed unicorn trying to make mud pies like she would have made if she hadn't been dead.

He wanted to tell her all of that, but knew if he did he'd have to go into detail about how he'd been found by a nosy neighbor outside his house... and that what he was doing worried the neighbor and the authorities so badly that he had ended up in a mental institution.

He wanted tell her that, but instead smiled. "Come on." he said, standing, taking her arm, and leading her away.

"Where are we going?"

"I want dessert. Lets get a slice of pie."

"Pie? Jane, what's gotten into you?"

He didn't answer, just kept leading her away. He knew he could either dwell on the horrible thing that Red John had done to his daughter, or he could focus on the good times.. on her smile, on her laugh, on the way she said wanted to be a chief and make pies for him. He wanted to feel closer to her and this was the only way he knew how to do it.


	2. The Drunken Mess

_A/N: Thank you all so much for the reviews of the first chapter :) This chapter is a Rigsby/Grace piece with some Jane thrown in because.. I mean.. he's Jane. He cannot be denied. All mistakes are mine._

_Disclaimer: I don't own these characters... _

Story Prompt: There were two from demonbunny2. The situation was that someone was drunk around the other members of the team... and the three words were: beer, polar bears, and tu tu.

Pairing: This is a Rigsby/Grace story.

Genre:Well, it's not dark LOL. I guess general would be a good description for this LOL

**The Drunken Mess**

"This was not a smart idea." Agent Teresa Lisbon opined while watching the video monitor. The facts were: a high priced stripper was dead; her boyfriend, a very influential member of local organized crime, was the main suspect; and an undercover Wayne Rigsby had become very, very drunk in the process of trying to capture him.

"Maybe not." Patrick Jane agreed, sitting in the chair directly in front of the video monitor. His arms were crossed, but a hint of an amused smile ghosted on his lips.

"I thought he said he could hold his liquor." Grace added from the seat between them. In the past half hour, Rigsby had killed 14 shots of Jack, a double shot of tequila, and was then nursing a beer.

"No one can hold that much liquor." said Cho quietly laughing from his location on the sofa behind the group . He'd never say it, but watching Rigsby make a drunken fool of himself was, at the very least, entertaining. It was one way to spend a long Saturday night.... not his preferred way, but a decent one none-the-less.

"What's he doing?" Grace asked horrified, pointing to the monitor. Rigsby was standing on stage, microphone in hand, ready to speak.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"I am so sorry." Rigsby said while lying on the bed with an ice pack on his head. He didn't remember a lot of what happened the night before, but did know that he'd woken up with one hell of a hangover.

"Nothing to be sorry for." Lisbon grinned from his bedside. The team was all there, each looking at him. Each grinning like a Cheshire cat... all but Grace. "You did your job. You might have been drunk, but you kept the club owner occupied long enough for Cho to go in and get the evidence we needed. He killed his girlfriend, and he will spend the rest of his life in jail. All thanks to you."

"Happy to help." he groaned, head pounding. Why did it feel like polar bears in tu tus were performing Swan Lake on his eyeballs?

"Yes, it was very enlightening." Jane snickered from the foot of the bed. His reply was met with a glare from Grace and a smack on the arm from Lisbon. "Well, it was. I, for one, had no idea that Grace had a birthmark hidden in a delicate place under her clothes until you made the very public announcement."

"Jane--" Rigsby would have gotten up to confront the annoying man if the thought of raising up from his pillow didn't make his stomach churn. "I was drunk. Talking out of my mind."

"So, she doesn't have one there?"

"That's enough Jane." Grace said, eyes fiery. Jane chuckled once more then let it go. He liked to be annoying, but he tried to stop at flat out meanness.

"Come on. Lets go. We have work to do." Lisbon told the rest. "Grace stay here with Rigsby. I think you two need to talk."

The others left, Jane had to stop and wink at Rigsby before he did, and then it was just the two. "I am so sorry." he said again. "I don't know exactly what I did or what I said, but I'm pretty sure it requires an apology."

She blushed, but said, "No, it's ok. No harm. You were drunk like you said."

"And the others heard?"

She nodded, completely petrified by the memory of that moment.... She had been sitting between her boss and the mentalist. Two people who's opinion on her mattered. Lisbon because she was her boss, and Jane-- well she wasn't completely sure about Jane. She had sat there watching Rigsby get on the stage, shew off the stripper, grab a microphone, and in a drunken slur tell the entire assembly about Grace's sweet little heart birthmark on her inner thigh and that-- "You said you loved me." she blurted, then instantly regretted it.

He sighed. "I figured as much." He paused and closed his eyes, begging the polar bears to finish up their ballet on them. When it became apparent that they had an encore in mind, he looked back at Grace and said, "I'm not sorry I said it."

His words caught her off guard. "Wayne--"

"No, I'm not. I'm not sorry I said them. I _am_ sorry that it took me getting drunk to say them, and I'm sorry that it was on a stage of a strip joint to a crowd of strangers, but I'm not sorry I said it. It's true. I do love you."

She laughed nervously. "That's impossible. You barely know me."

"I know you have that heart birthmark on your inner thigh." he smiled.

"Only because I told you when we were playing twenty questions on a stakeout one night. The way you said it, everyone one, especially Jane, thinks that we had sex."

Rigsby cut his eyes to her, this time puzzled. "And why would that be such a bad thing? Them thinking we had sex?"

"B-because it's against th-the rules." she stammered. It was the only reason she could think of voicing at the moment.

"Lisbon isn't going to say anything as long as our relationship doesn't interfere with our job."

"We don't have a relationship."

"We could--"

"You were drunk."

"That's not it, Grace."

"I'll check on you later." With that she abruptly left. Restless, Rigsby settled back into his pillow. The polar bears were now break dancing.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Grace sat at the hotel bar nursing a water. Water was all she wanted... definitely no alcohol, but she hadn't felt like going back to her room. Lisbon had informed them that since the murderer had been caught, they would drive back to Sacramento in two hours giving Rigsby time to sober up since it had been a work related hangover.

The stool beside her squeaked, and she knew who it was, but didn't look. It was always him burying his nose in everyone else's business. "So, I take it your talk didn't go well."

"It went fine." she answered drinking a long draw from her glass.

"Hm..."

"What does that even mean?" she said irritated. "_Hmm_. Is that just a way for you to work me over? Read my mind? Figure me out? Stick your nose where it doesn't belong?"

"First, it's not me who wants to work you over. Second, I _can't_ read your mind. Third, I _can_ figure you out. And fourth, I already told you, Grace. I'm nosy."

"Just leave me alone, Jane. Ok."

He pretended to think for a minute. "Um... no."

"Good Lord--"

He cut her off. "I wish you would stop being so damn stupid. Rigsby loves you. He knows you faults, or at least thinks he does. He wants to spend time with you. He's a decent young man. Why not give him a chance?" When she didn't respond, he did for her. "You're afraid."

"I'm not."

"You're afraid that something will happen and you'll feel for him too. You'll open your heart to him, and he'll get bored. That's what the other one did, isn't it?"

"The other what?" she said, eyes stinging from untapped tears.

"The other man you gave your heart to. He told you all kinds of promises. Told you he loved you, and you began loving him too. And then he left. It hurt. You picked up the pieces. You moved on, but you never completely got over it."

She turned to him and studied his face. He was solemn. She wondered if this was how he conned all of those women in his past. "I thought you weren't psychic."

"I'm not. Just a good judge of character. The rules card is just a crutch. You know Lisbon won't mind nor will she tell Minelli. You are just afraid of giving your heart away again, and who can blame you?" he paused a minute so his words would sink in. "Give him a chance, Grace. He deserves at least that."

She thought it over then her lips betrayed her with a smile. "You are a very persuasive man."

He beamed back. "So I've been told."

She thanked him, got up, and went off to find Rigsby.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

His back was turned to the door when she quietly opened it. He was busy buttoning his clean white shirt mumbling something to himself. Grace watched for a few minutes then made up her mind. Slowly, she walked to him, lightly placed her hand on his shoulder, and gently slid it down his shoulder and rested on his hands mid button. He started to say something, but she placed her finger to his lips to quiet him. She took a deep breath to steady herself and began unbuttoning the buttons he'd already fastened.

Rigsby stood taller, watching her movements, fearing he was still in a drunken dream. When she unfastened the last button, she glided the shirt over his shoulders along with the white shirt underneath. Her own purple tank-top soon followed. It wasn't until Grace pushed him back on his bed that their lips finally touched.

It wasn't long after that that Rigsby smiled to himself. Her birthmark really did look like a heart.


	3. Flight Plan

_A/N: This is a Cho-centric one-shot.. and who doesn't love Cho LOL. He's just hard to write for some reason. I guess because he doesn't have a 'ship'. Anyway, thanks to demonbunny2 for the prompts. If anyone would like to add some,, just leave them in a reply... and if you'd like to leave a reply too, that would be great :). All mistakes are mine. All characters aren't._

**Situational prompt: **someone has a fear.

**3 word prompt:** flying, roller skates, and cotton candy (or as I learned is called 'fairy floss' in Australia. Who knew?)

**Pairings:**Um... Cho and Jane ;) But not *that* way.

**Genre:**General, but lighthearted. We don't get into any deep-seeded reasons why Cho is afraid to fly... did that give away a spoiler? LOL

Enjoy.. I hope! *fingers crossed*

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Flight Plan**

Kimball Cho leaned back in his cushioned seat and closed his eyes tightly. He was trying to hide the fact that he was terrified of flying, but it wasn't seeming to work. Normally before trips, he would take a pill to help him calm his nerves. Unfortunately, that morning he had grabbed the wrong bag, and as an effect was without his little helpful aides.

It was annoying. He was Kimball Cho. Serious. Calm. Not afraid of anything Kimball Cho... so he had gotten on the plane, his insides screaming for him to run like a little school girl, and had found his seat.

Now all he had to do was keep it together on the short flight between Sacramento and an airport in Northern California. There had been a murder (wasn't there always) and the CBI team had been assigned to it. They could have driven, but Minelli said they had to arrive within the day.

So there he sat, eyes clinched, hands gripping the seat, praying that the flight would be over soon. Hoping that no one would......

"Cho, looks like we're seat buddies."

_Oh good God._ "Jane. I'm a little busy here."

"Yes, I can see. It's hard work being terrified." Cho heard Jane sit down in the seat next to him and settled himself in.

"I'm not terrified."

"No. No, of course not. But you can see how I would make such a grievous error. Your eyes are shut tightly, or they were before I pointed it out. Your hands are clammy. There is a bead of sweat trickling down your forehead--"

As Jane prattled on, Cho hoped that if he ignored him, he would leave him alone. He knew that would never happen, but still.. it was worth a shot. "I can help you, you know?" Jane's voice said, still invading his preferred darkness.

"No thanks."

"I can."

"No."

"You're being unreasonable, Cho."

"I am not. I'm being very reasonable. If I were unreasonable, I would elbow you in the stomach right now." Cho deadpanned, making Jane wonder if he was kidding. "I'm not kidding." he said as if reading the 'mindreaders' mind.

"Ok, fine. Don't accept my help. Have a fear of flying for the rest of your life." Cho felt Jane's elbow so he knew he'd crossed his arms and he heard him whistling a happy little song softly. He opened one eye to him, just to see what he was doing. Jane was sitting arms crossed, like he had suspected, eyes scanning the plane with a joyful expression on his face. "What can you possibly like about flying?"

Jane looked at him, amused. "All these people. Stuck together. They can't get out. They can't leave. They can't hide. If you are on the same flight long enough, you can figure them out. Learn their entire life story."

Cho raised a brow. "You're lying."

Jane shrugged nonchalantly. "You'll never know. You just sit back and shut your eyes like a scared kitten again. It's ok. Go ahead."

"I am not a scared kitten."

"Could have fooled me."

Cho huffed agitated and leaned his head back against the seat. He had been afraid of flying as long as he could remember. Even when he was in the army, it took lots of medication to get him onto the plane. His comrades nicknamed him Mr. T in reference to the mohawked man's character, B.A. Barakus, on the A-Team and his fear of flying.

"You don't want to be Mr. T forever do you?" Jane asked, causing a reaction from Cho. "How do you do that?" All he got in response was a chuckle. "Come on, let me help you."

He knew what that meant. What 'help' it would be. Hypnosis. He cringed at the word.

He also cringed at the thought of being on the plane without any medication. Cho sighed and nodded defeated. It would be a long flight if he had to deal with Jane pestering him, and actually, he did want his help... or thought he did. He did until he saw Jane's childlike glee at the prospect of 'helping' him. Then his stomach just knotted in dread. "Fine." he rolled his eyes. "But don't make me do anything stupid."

"Like what?"

"Like you did Rigsby and have me kiss Grace."

Jane's brow raised. The thought had never occurred to him. "Do you want to kiss Grace?"

"What? No."

"Then it won't be a problem." Jane shifted in his seat so that he was facing Cho. "Just close your eyes and relax." he said in his most soothing voice. "The others are at the front of the plane. We are back here. They won't see you. They won't know what we are doing. So just sit back, relax, take deep breaths."

Cho tried to comply. It was harder than he imagined, though, to relax in the fuselage of a crowded plane shooting through the sky.

"Now, imagine you are at a fair. It is nearing sunset. You can see the sky changing from a light blue into a mix of reds and oranges. There is a slight breeze blowing around you. There are people, but you aren't crowded. No one is in your personal space. You are walking up through the entrance. You see the Ferris wheel. To the left is the Cleopatra boat swinging up and down. Up and down. Underneath is a line of people that snakes all the way through the midway. In the midway are games. Shooting games. Throwing games. Dart games. People selling cotton candy. Walk through the midway now."

Cho imagined the place Jane described and walked through the midway. To his left he saw a woman breathing fire and to his right a man throwing baseballs at little milk jugs.

"Good." Jane's voice was hypnotic. "At the end of the midway is a tent. The tent is tall and red. There is a man outside like a ringmaster beckoning you to come in. You go inside. The tent is empty except for a few gray folding chairs and a large movie screen in front of you. Once you sit down, the screen starts to play. There is a spinning picture like an old flight control monitor. In the middle is a countdown starting with five. Then four... three... two.... one. The screen changes and you see yourself. You are on roller skates and going down a long road---"

"I can't picture that, man." Cho's eyes flickered open and he sat up. "I would never be on roller skates."

"Well, would you ever be in the midway of a small town carnival either?"

Cho thought a minute. "No."

"Well---"

"Fine." he leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes.

"No need." Jane said. "You're already hypnotised."

Cho's eyes opened and he looked at Jane confused. "Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am--" Jane held his hand up to stop him. "Do you feel fear? Right now, do you feel fear?"

"Right now I feel frustration." he admitted, agitated that he'd let Jane mess with him.

"Frustration, but not fear." his companion pointed out.

Cho opened his mouth to speak then shut it. Jane was right. He didn't feel fear any more. He must really be hypnotised. "Hm. How long will this last?"

"As long as you want it too. I've embedded a suggestion that every time you see a plane, it will automatically kick in. You won't need medicine any more and you won't be afraid."

"Hm.. Thanks man."

"Anytime." It was Jane's turn to lean back and close his eyes. He couldn't help himself as a wide grin crossed his lips. Sometimes people didn't need to be hypnotised.. they just needed to think they were.


	4. Revenge

One shot:

**3 word prompts: **puppy, paperclip, vending machine (all given by demonbunny7 to work my semi-retired mind. You're welcome.... )

**Pairing:** None

**Warnings:** This is probably a 10 on the darkness scale (yes I said darkness scale) **There will be an A/N later.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

My name is Patrick Jane.. but you knew that already.

You want to know what happened. You want every detail. Fine. I'll tell you what I know, but it's not pretty. Dealing with Red John is never pretty, but you know that too, don't you?

It all started three days ago when I decided that I'd had enough sleepless nights, enough chasing my tail like a damn dog, enough waiting for innocent women to die so I could get my revenge on Red John---

_But you did, didn't you? You got your revenge._

I did, but do you want my story or not?

It all started with me laying on my couch, trying to keep my mind occupied. Trying anyway I could to think of a way to capture the bastard. It wasn't until I saw Grace at the vending machine that I had it hit me.

Bait.

I coolly walked over to her and taped her on the shoulder. It startled her at first, and she almost dropped her papers which had been loosely fastened with a silver paperclip. I smiled at her like I always did. She thought she hid it so well, but I knew. I knew the effect I had on her. The way her pulse would quicken whenever I was around. The way her eyes would dilate slightly showing a telltale sign of her thoughts. I knew that Grace was attracted to me. Infatuated with my mentalist abilities. She'd never have admitted it, but I knew. I could tell. I used that knowledge a lot in the past few months like any good con man would, don't you think?

I never meant for her to--

I hit the vending machine before she paid causing it to produce her favorite candy. A Payday. She grinned at me brightly, seemingly impressed with my talents, but isn't everyone? A little pizazz here. A dash of charm there. Bam. People eat out of your hand. Easy really. Grace was one of the unfortunately gullible ones. Not like you.

I gave her my biggest and best puppy dog look and asked her if she would help me with something. She eyed me skeptically at first. She was getting smarter and more worldly about how I played her, but I was determined. Red John was the sole thing on my mind. I didn't care who got hurt.... that's a lie. I did care about who got hurt. I never wanted anything to happen to Grace. I did love her. Not the romantic way Rigsby loved her. Or the professional way you do, but I did. In my own way, I loved her. You can look at me incredulously if you please, but it's true. As much as I wanted Red John, I would have never harmed hair on her head for it. It wasn't meant to happen that way.

_How was it supposed to happen?_

We got a lead on a Red John case. Or rather I did. A piece of evidence I didn't inform the team about. I wanted him for myself. At the Carol Dranger crime scene, I noticed a pattern that I had missed in the previous Red John killings. I knew I was getting close and while I still had no name, I knew I could get him.

Grace agreed to help, even though I never really told her what she was doing for me. I told her the boss approved. It was enough for her. She was very trusting. I never even told her it was about Red John. I just sent her, and she went... like a lamb to the slaughter.

A few hours later, I got worried because I hadn't heard from her. I called her cell and when it picked up and I heard that laughter, his laughter, my stomach literally knotted and I ran to find her.

But I knew.

I knew inside. I knew instinctively where she was. I went to the place I knew she was... hoping the entire time that the always right Patrick Jane was wrong. I climbed the stairs I climbed five years ago, this time there was no note on the door. I had a little flicker of hoping, thinking that maybe, just maybe---

I held my breath. And I opened the door.

My smiley face was there, just as it had been before, but it was a new, darker shade of red.

She was there. Grace. Laying under-- laying under the face. She wasn't moving. I ran to her and I called 9-1-1, then I felt the presence of another. I turned and Red John was there, staring me right in the eye. We fought. I won.

_Easy as that?_

Easy as that. You don't believe me? Why should you? Yes, it's my f--

_click_

_xxxxxxxxxxxx_

The tape recorder was stopped before he could finish his thought. "Don't." he said. "Don't you do that. Let me confess. Please."

"You are not confessing to murder when you didn't do the killing." Agent Lisbon said, sympathetic to her consultant, but angrier with him than ever before.

"I did. It was my fault that Grace died. Mine."

"Yes." she agreed, trying to hold on to her hastily dwindling composure. It was her worst nightmare. One of her team dying and another being the cause. Thankfully, she was numb. She stared at the guilt-ridden man in her presence, noticing how blue the deep set bruise on his jaw was becoming. It had been made by Rigsby getting his own revenge. Jane's left eye was also swelling shut. Cho had finally been able to stop the grieving man before he could kill him. At the time, Jane had yelled to Cho to let Rigsby go so he could finish the job. It wasn't like he had anything to live for anyway. "What you did was idiotic and stupid." Lisbon went on. "You set a trap that none of us knew about, and you lead Red John to Grace. But did you kill her? No. That was Red John. That is what the records will say."

"But we will know the truth."

"_We _will know the truth." she answered sadly, she stood, retrieved the tape and exited the room without another word, leaving Jane alone in the interrogation room with only his thoughts. He placed his handcuffed hands on the table and breathed deeply. He had always imagined that when Red John died, when he finally got his revenge, then all would be ok. That the constantly aching throb in his chest would dissipate finally. And it would have, it his actions hadn't cost his friend Grace her life. And for what?

He looked at the wedding ring on his hand and rested his head on the table. Patrick Jane had been wrong two times in his life and both had ended with the people he loved dead. He wondered if any of it had been worth it.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_A/N: Yes, I killed Grace. This came from a conversation I had with demonbunny about how I thought the season finale might go, so I decided to write my own version. All characters aren't mine.. all murder, mayhem, Grace torture and mistakes are, however. Poor Grace :(_


	5. Pillow Talk

**Challenge words:**Lei (Hawaiian), power cord, and train

**Pairings:**Well, you'll just have to read and find out LOL

**Genre:**Romance..... not near as dark as what I normally do (yay me! Give me a star LOL)

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing in this story.

**A Plea for Help:** Like Mike Rowe on Dirty Jobs, I need ideas... bad. demonbunny7 has been great enough to give me 5 chapters full of them, but we can't just hang our hopes on her. If you would, please send me 3 words or a prompt to make a story about, I'd greatly appreciate it. :)

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Chapter 5: Pillow Talk

It was late, or early depending on your idea of time, when I felt his fingers lazily trailing my bare arms in soft waves. From there, they went to the skin on my back, making little goosebumps rise behind them. He tried to stop so I moaned sleepily in protest. I loved when he rubbed my back like that. He didn't do it nearly enough for me and I wanted more, groggy or not.

I heard him laugh in the lighthearted way he had about him and kissed my naked back tenderly. Then I felt his fingers blissfully moving again. It was heaven.

Being married to Patrick Jane was always an adventure. He was as slick with others as he was as truthful with me. Being a psychic was his job. A job he was darn good at, but that didn't mean he tried any of his tricks at home. I had broken him of that years ago.

We had a good marriage. A happy marriage. It wasn't perfect by any means, none were. But we knew we were doing better than a lot of our friends who were courting their fifth conquest.

"Our girl get to bed at a decent hour?" he asked as he did most every night. With his job, he didn't get to be home with us at night much, but he always asked. He was good at letting us know he cared.

"Finally." I laughed. "I had to practically pry her toy train from her hand. She loves it, you know?"

"I knew she would."

I turned my head to him, still laying on my stomach. I had to move the fountain of blond curls from my face to see him. "Because you're psychic?" I teased. I always aggravated him about his chosen profession. I never in a million years thought I'd be married to one of 'those' people. My parents had taught be better than that..... or so they had thought.

He chuckled and smiled his boyish grin. That grin that had won me over on our first date, and the one he used to win just about every argument we'd had since. "Yes. Because I'm psychic. Don't believe me?"

"You gonna show me?" I asked playfully. I loved this game with him, well, truthfully I loved where this game ended up, but the foreplay was just as good as the main event.

He grinned, closed his eyes, and ran his hands over my body not touching, just 'acting'. "Think of something. Think of any place you want to be. It can be anywhere. Just. concentrate." He did this silly little trick for a few more minutes before his baby blues opened and he said, "I see you... in Hawaii... wearing a lei... and... nothing else."

I laughed and hit him with the pillow I'd been laying on. Our game always ended up with me naked somewhere. But then, of course, I was naked right there in bed with him. He only had on his boxers. The choice of sleeping attire (or lack there of) was our norm. We weren't what you'd call a typical family. Daddy the "psychic". Mommy the child advocate. And baby made three.

He laughed as I whacked him with the pillow again, this time grabbing it and tossing it off of the bed at the same time as he rolled on top of me, covering me almost completely. "I know what you're thinking." I smiled at him, positioning my body under his.

"Yeah, what's that?" he said, his eyes fixated on mine. He was very easy to read, but it wasn't his eyes giving him away.

I closed my eyes and performed the same silly little hand gestures he'd done earlier. I opened them and grinned. "You are thinking that you think that I'll say you are thinking that you love me."

I'm sure it took a while for all of that to register. "Uh-huh." he finally answered. He smiled wickedly and lowered his lips to my exposed neck.

"But it's not true."

"It's not?"

"Nope." I sounded overly confident.

"You don't love me?" he was finding my ears. His words tickled them, making me shudder.

"Not that, idiot." I laughed, smacking him playfully on the arm, causing him to stop and look at me. "You were in fact thinking that you really wish there was a power cord in here so the lamp would be next to the bed so you could turn it off there instead of having to go across the room."

"Damn." he paused. "You're good."

"Told ya." I giggled, running my fingers through his golden locks. I studied his face and sighed, and he, or course, noticed my change in expression. When he asked what the matter was I shrugged, "Nothing really. Just... a bad feeling. I'm worried."

My sudden change seemed to concern him. "Worried, about what?"

"Red John."

The name made him noticeably cringe. The police had asked him a few weeks ago to help them find the serial killer and he'd been making a name of himself by doing it. "There is nothing--"

"I know it's silly. And I know it's childish. It's just. I'm afraid. I'm worried that something will happen to us. To you. I'm afraid this Red John will take you away from me."

He gently leaned down and kissed my forehead. "I'll never let that happen. I'll always protect you. You trust me, don't you?"

I nodded and smiled back. Of course I trusted him. He was my husband. I trusted him with my life.


	6. The Perfect World

**_3 word prompt: _**Batman, strawberries, oriental rug...given to me by Nidhoegg. Thanks so much for the prompt. :) It was very fun to write.

**_Pairing: _**Jane and Lisbon. Yes a Jisbon piece from *me*. And it's not entirely dark. Double yay :) Grace isn't even in it (Triple yay from the non- Jacers LOL)

**_Summary:_** Lisbon is on her perfect date.. in her perfect home... with her perfect man. Sometimes things aren't exactly as perfect as you think. Sometimes you just have to let go.

**_Genre:_** Romance. It's not dark really and it's not gory.

I hope you like it. I have a few in the wings, but if you have a prompt suggestion, please leave it in the reviews :) I love getting new prompts. Let me know what you think :)

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Chapter 6: The Perfect World

Batman.

That's what she saw.

Adam West running around on the TV like an idiot with that sidekick of his, Robin, running right behind. The Joker was after them. Or rather, he was letting his henchmen run after them. Robin was such a pretty name... on a girl maybe. Then again, the character of Robin wasn't a very masculine male anyway. Suddenly, Batman was caught in an amateurish trap by the Joker, only it wasn't Cesar Romero's face under the make-up. It was Jane's.

"Strawberry?" he asked, sitting beside of her on the gorgeous oriental rug. He had the biggest smile she had ever seen. He looked... happy.

She couldn't help herself as his smile was infectious. "Sure, I'd love one." she beamed back. Out of the deep blue bowl he held in his lap, he pulled out one of the large, red fruits. She raised her hand to take it from him, but he moved it, shaking his head no. Instead of handing it to her, he raised it to his own lips and nibbled, an evil gleam in his eye. "That's enough, Jane." she laughed. His attempts at 'seducuction' were humorous to her. No that was a lie.. she found them quite appealing actually. He grinned back and moved the strawberry from his mouth to hers. She could still taste him on it. It tasted good.

After the initial bite, he let the green stem go and she was left eating the rest.

"This is a strange show." she lamented, turning her attention back to the old black and white TV. It had now switched to an episode of 'The Dukes of Hazzard'. It had been one of her favorite shows as a child thanks mostly to the blond haired cousin. She'd had a thing for good ole Bo Duke. When she had been a teenager, she'd spent hours imagining running her fingers though his blond, tousled hair. Instead of John Schneider on her antique TV screen, however, the character of Bo Duke looked mightily familiar. She cut her eyes to the man beside of her. Yep. Jane as Bo Duke. If only.....

It was then that she finally took in her surroundings. It was a living room in what looked to be a cabin. A cabin she'd obviously never been in before. The antique, drab color of yellow, rabbit-ears using television set sat in front of them, resting against a dark paneled wall. A big picture window (the kind she's always dreamed of as a child) was to her right. The dark curtains were pulled so the sun's glare wouldn't affect the television screen. They sat on a very pretty red, orange, and black oriental rug that she had remembered eyeing at a home improvement store not a week before. The couch she rested her back on was black leather... just like the one she had wanted a few months before but couldn't afford. To her left was a large entryway into an expansive rustic yet modern kitchen. She suddenly realized that she was in her dream home. With her dream man....

"I'm dreaming." she stated matter-of-fact.

He laughed softly. "No, not dreaming. Strawberry?" he asked again, raising the bowl.

"No, thanks." She wanted to pinch herself to wake up, but maybe she didn't. It was nice there, with him. It was warm and homey. It felt like she was home.

"Do you like it here?" he asked suddenly. He was looking her directly in the eyes with a very serious expression.

"Yes." she smiled afraid that it might be a trick question.

"Would you like to stay?"

"It's my dream home." she said after pausing to think for a few minutes. "I can't-- I don't understand." Her eyes cut to the windows. Even though the curtains were very dark, she could tell that something outside was getting brighter. Bright enough to filter through the curtains.

She felt warmth on her hand. Looking down, she realized that he wasn't touching her. It felt just like _someone_ was, however.

_"If it's too much for you--"_ she heard his voice, but his lips weren't moving. Jane was staring at her, still as a statue. _"If you won't wake up, or if you won't be back like you were. Then you don't have to fight."_

"What's going on?" her voice shook. "Jane?"

The man to her right let out a long breath. "You have a choice, Teresa."

"What kind of choice? Am I... am I dead?"

"No, not exactly. You could be though. You could have all of this. This and more if you choose."

_"...I don't know if you can hear me."_ She heard him again. The Jane in her head. She started to tell him that she could hear, but decided it would be in vain. She was in a coma. Funny how that simple fact seemed so simple to her. _"Lisbon. If you don't think you can come back as you were, then don't fight. You can let go." _She heard the pain in his voice as it cracked during that last sentence. It broke her heart more than the thought of being stuck in a coma until she died had.

She heard the TV switch again and this time saw a medical drama, at least that's what she thought it was at the time. The camera vantage point was up above in a corner of the room, shooting down on the bed and the other occupant in the room. It started out in black and white and slowly techi-color crept in. There was a woman laying unconscious on a hospital bed. Little tendrils of dark hair fell out of place from under a large bandage on her head. Some sort of tube ran out of her arm and a heart machine beeped beside of the bed. She crawled over to the TV hurriedly so she could see every inch of the screen.

It was her in the bed. She was looking at herself.

Next to her bed was a disheveled looking Jane, holding on to her hand tightly. She could tell that he was trying to hold his emotions in, even though he was visibly shaking. He had her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles vigorously. _"I don't want you to have to suffer, Lisbon." _she heard both in her head and on the TV. _"I don't want you to have to be in a coma or a vegetable your entire life. That's not you. You are too full of life. Please. If it's too much. You can-- you can just let go." _There it was again. Why did he keep telling her to let go? To die? A tear streamed down her cheek and she wiped it away angrily. Next to her, Jane, the Jane that had been in her dream with her, came and held her hand mirroring what was happening on her television. "He's only trying to think of what's best for you, Teresa." answering her unasked question. "What do you want to do?" he asked gently.

"Well, how the hell am I supposed to know?" she snapped, taking him aback. "How am I supposed to know what will happen if I try to wake up? What you, he-- is asking is unreasonable!" she stood, angry that Jane had put her in that position. She felt herself getting warm and her heartrate climb. _"Lisbon?"_she heard in her head. The Jane on TV raised from the bed and looked the monitor.

"I've made my choice." she said to the man in front of her. "This is great. It's everything I've ever wanted."

"That's Heaven for you." he smirked.

"Yes. But you aren't real. You can't be if Jane is still alive. And this," she gestured her arms to show him she meant the cabin. "--this is just a fantasy."

"It doesn't have to be."

"No, it doesn't. I'll die some day and then this can all be mine, except you because you don't even believe in Heaven."

"Doesn't mean Heaven doesn't believe in me." he quipped back.

"True. But I have to take my chances in the world. I don't know what Jane is talking about. Wanting me to give up.. to let go, but I"m not a quitter. I'm not." She gasped as for the first time she felt some sort of pain stemming from her head. Reality was closing in. "I want to go back."

He grinned back, looking pleased. "Very well."

Her eyes opened and that's when the dizziness hit. The room began spinning and she grabbed the only thing she could think to grab, the thing that was in her hand. "Lisbon!" he sounded shocked, but way too loud.

"Shhh.." she said, wincing from pain. Her head felt like it had been trampled by a thousand elephants.

"Sorry. I'm sorry. I'll go get the doctor." he stood to leave, but she wouldn't release her grip on his hand.

"What happened?" she asked, almost wishing that she was back in that perfect house where nothing hurt. Almost.

"Gunshot wound."

Her eyes widened. "To the head?"

"Yeah. Do you remember anything about it?"

She shook her head no and realized afterwards that it had been a stupid idea. This time the world did back-flips. "I'll go--"

"No. No, I have something to say to you." she said, drawing him back in. She crooked her finger motioning for him to come down to her level. He complied, unsure what she was going to tell him. Once he was close enough, she opened her mouth to speak but instead grabbed his ear and tweaked it hard. "Ow!" he bellowed. "What was that for?"

"Don't you ever tell me to let go again. Got it?!"

To her surprise, he laughed. "Got you to wake up, didn't it?"

"Damn it, Jane." she huffed, but both knew she wasn't actually mad. She was very grateful to be alive, thanks in part to the mind games and skeeming of Patrick Jane.

Without saying another word, Jane leaned down and gently placed a kiss to her forehead. It was unexpected, but it felt good. "Thank you for coming back to me." he said softly. Those words held many more emotions than she wanted to think about right then.

"Thanks for ticking me off."

"Anytime." he laughed again.

"I got to see Heaven." she said.

"Really?" he sounded skeptical. "What was it like?"

"Oh, a lot like here." she mused. "Only it had better TV."


	7. The Restaurant

_A/N: So I read a story one time on the O.C. side that was totally a conversation. There were no who said what and where. It was told in the story. I thought it was neat and always wanted to write one. So here it is. I hope you like it._

**_3 word prompts: _**octopus, diaper, Bobby Flay.... give to me by the wonderful kathiann

**_Pairings: _**Jane and Lisbon

**_Genre: _**Jane and Lisbon Banter... is that a genre? LOL

**_Disclaimer: _**I have nothing witty to say here, so I'll just say I don't own them and be done with it LOL

Enjoy :) It's short and sweet LOL

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_**Chapter 7: The Restaurant**_

"I'm not eating that."

"Sure you are."

"No, I'm not."

"What? Is the mighty Lisbon scared of a little ocean dweller?"

"It's an octopus, Jane. And I wouldn't eat it even if Bobby Flay cooked it himself."

"I expected more from you."

"You expected wrong."

"So... you really aren't going to eat it?"

"I'm really not going to eat it."

"Hmm..."

"What?"

"Don't sound so ticked. I just said, 'Hmmm'."

"But you said it in that tone."

"What tone?"

"_That_ tone. Oh stop smiling."

"I always smile. It's what I do. I wonder, why is it bothering you so much today?"

"It's not."

"Oh, me thinks you protest too much."

"Well, me thinks you smile to much."

"I could always be stoic like Cho."

"I'd pay money to see that."

"Really? You'd really rather me not smile ever again."

"Well--- maybe not _ever_ again."

"So you like my smile."

"No--"

"You don't?"

"Oh stop faking hurt. You're just playing with me."

"Lisbon, I'm simply trying to enjoy a meal with you, but you won't eat your octopus. Why did you order it anyway?"

"I thought it was chicken."

"You don't read French? You should learn. Makes life easier when you go to a French restaurant."

"I guess so."

"Oh come on. Where is your sense of adventure? Try it."

"No."

"Please."

"No."

"For me? Don't give me that look. You know you want too."

"I know I'd rather eat a dirty diaper."

"That's disgusting. Have you ever actually seen a dirty diaper?"

"It was a figure of speech, Jane. What are you eating?"

"Hmm.. Chicken."

"You got chicken?"

"Yes."

"And you like octopus?"

"Uh-huh."

"Then why did you get chicken."

"Because-- I knew you couldn't read French. Wanna switch?"

_**The End**_


End file.
